Unaccustomed
by RavenclawGenius
Summary: HGLM: Lucius is accustomed to getting what he wants, and he's going to have Hermione Granger if it kills him. But he's quite unaccustomed to feeling content. Smut warning.


Lucius paced the floorboard in front of the hearth like a caged animal.

This should not – _could not_ – be happening to him.

Oh, sod it.

He'd seen Potter. He'd seen Weasley. Hell, he'd seen all of the Weasley boys. They ogled her, too. She was –

But he was a Malfoy, damn it.

Narcissa knew that he watched her. She smiled knowingly, secretively, and nodded her head. "Lucius," she said, "go after her."

How odd, he thought, when your ex-wife is instructing you to pursue another woman. And one so young, at that. But oh, she was stunning. Forget the way her eyes lit up when she was interested, or curious, or happy, or angry. Forget her intelligence, just for a moment. Her breasts, the curve of her hip, her flat stomach – those were appealing in the most primal of ways.

And how could he deny her intellect after noticing the other things? How could he turn away from those golden honey eyes without appearing even the least bit interested?

And if he was meant to turn away from those, no man would expect him to turn away from the comforting nature she offered. She extended her warmth and compassion to him on many an occasion.

Lucius would openly admit to feigning two, or three, or maybe six emotional breakdowns while in her presence. And, without fail, she always listened to the bullshit he concocted, and rubbed his back soothingly, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him to her chest.

Oh, and her chest simply felt exquisite pressed against his.

He shivered involuntarily at the memory of it.

No other woman, not even Cissy, had caused him to shiver just at the thought of her. Narcissa had been enough, Lucius thought. Because their marriage had been forced by his father, Abraxas Malfoy, they had made due with their relationship through the war.

They had delved into sex, and making love to one another, and they truly did love each other – just not in the manner that a man would love the woman he married.

After the war, they simply found that they did not want to hold one another back any longer if there was no driving force that kept them together. It was hard to adjust to seeing Narcissa with other men, but it was certainly understandable.

Narcissa was beyond attractive. She was wealthy – as he had had no qualms with parting with a decent amount of his bank account in order to assure that she would be taken care of. And, in addition, she was discreet and aristocratic. She was, without a doubt, a phenomenal woman.

But Hermione Granger could nearly be Narcissa's exact opposite. They differed first in appearances, as Hermione's dark hair and dark eyes entirely offset Narcissa blonde and blue. Hermione was soft and compassionate where Narcissa was sometimes detached. Hermione was small, and almost begged to be protected, while Narcissa was relatively tall and emitted a distinct air of independence.

Of course Lucius knew that Hermione could protect herself; he'd fought against her for the duration of the beginning of the war and even he found her to be a formidable opponent. But she was just so small, so delicate and innocent-looking that Lucius ached to capture her in his arms and hold her there. He longed for nothing more than to shelter her virtue.

Although, now that he thought of it, he wouldn't have a very strong objection at all if _he_ were the man to steal her virtue away.

Lucius shuddered again, imagining how it would feel to touch her, to skim his fingers over her breasts, to press his lips against her neck and ears. And he could imagine how reactive she would be.

She was so opposite of himself. When Hermione Granger felt, her face expressed it. She had distinct features across her countenance that displayed her ire, her pleasure, her confusion, or disgust with apparent ease.

Lucius could only imagine how expressive she would be while he made love to her.

"Damn it," he muttered aloud.

He was desperate for contact, desperate for her touch. He'd been very patient, he thought. He hadn't seen her for three days, which was an extremely difficult task for him. He had done nothing but think of her, and imagine her during those three days and he was at his rope's end.

Lucius had never been a man to pine. And now that he was pining – because he certainly could no longer deny that he pined _dreadfully_ for Hermione Granger – he was determined to, at the very least, appear not to be.

And he'd had it. Three days was long enough.

He was Lucius Malfoy. He was quite accustomed to getting what he wanted, no matter how many pockets he had to fill to get it. And he wanted Hermione Granger.

Lucius did not concern himself with what he would say or do when he found himself at her home. He was too wrapped up in his delirious thoughts to be concerned with such a trivial matter.

He simply tossed his cloak over his shoulders, snatched his cane from its resting place against the brick surrounding the fire, and Apparated to the stone path that led up to her front door. He lifted his cane and tapped the snake's head at the tip of it to the wooden door four times.

He waited impatiently before he knocked four more times.

She answered the door, clad only in a thin, silky green robe. Her hair was wet, and darker than usual, creating a stronger contrast with her golden eyes. Lucius felt his eyes roaming across her body, down to the V of her robe and unabashedly let them continue their journey.

"Lucius?"

"May I enter your home?" He asked automatically, only just restraining himself from slamming her against the door and taking her right there, where all her neighbors and any passersby could see.

"Of course," she said softly, pushing the door open further and allowing him access. "Is everything alright?"

"No," he said, staring into her eyes unflinchingly. "I'm afraid it's not alright, Hermione."

She asked him to take a seat on the couch, and she sat next to him. Close.

She waited a moment for him to continue, and when he didn't she asked, "Did something happen?"

"No," he answered swiftly. "No, nothing happened."

Hermione took his hand and squeezed it lightly. "Talk to me, Lucius."

"That's the very last thing I want to do to you," he said finally, allowing every ounce of the lust he felt for her to glimmer almost evilly in his eyes.

"Lucius, I'm not sure what you mean," Hermione announced confusedly.

"Shall I tell you then?" He whispered seductively, articulating every word with the sharp, pointed aristocratic tone he used when making business deals. Narcissa had once told him that, in addition to his money, his undeniable power, and his sculpted body, his voice was a major turn on.

Hermione blinked, holding her eyes shut a moment too long as she inhaled a slow, steady breath, and opened them again as she nodded.

Lucius locked his eyes into hers, and said, "I have thought of little else but you for nearly a year now. What I want," he said slowly, "is to throw you against a wall and ravish your body in a way that you've never experienced before. And, Hermione, I should inform you that unless you are strictly against making love to me, I fully intend to have what I want. Tonight."

Hermione's breath quickened, and she muttered, "Lucius, I – "

"Do you vehemently object?" He smirked, interpreting from her clouded eyes and stuttered speech that she was shocked, surely, but also aroused.

He did not wait for a response. It was not in his nature. He squeezed her hand and released it, placing his hand on her cheek and tracing the line of her jaw, to the stretch of her neck, and trailing his finger down the cavern between her breasts.

Lucius watched with pleasure as she shivered at the contact.

"I – I need to think, just for a moment," she said shakily, standing and walking in the direction of the kitchen.

Lucius smirked, immensely proud of himself, and waited twenty seconds before following her steps to the kitchen. "Have you finished?" He asked comfortably.

"No, I – "

With two steps, he stood behind her and whispered lowly in her ear, "I should think it clear, by this point, that I want you."

She inhaled a sharp breath and turned around to face him. "I don't know what to think, Lucius. It's all just so sudden."

Sudden? Hah. She had no idea. "How do you feel, Hermione?" He asked instead.

"I – I don't know. Confused," she admitted.

"And," he said, his voice gravelly as his hand glided over the silken material of her robe and latched on to her breast, "how does _this_ make you feel?"

He already knew, of course. He could see her head tilt even the slightest bit upward in pleasure. He watched as her eyes fell shut with ecstasy. If that weren't enough, he could feel her hardened nipples pressing against the palms of his hands. He could hardly restrain himself from tightening his grasp on her breasts, and his lower regions twitched with excitement when she gasped and pushed her chest further into his hands.

Oh yes. She was quite a reactive little bombshell. He'd known she would be.

"Lucius," she breathed, clutching on to the front of his robes to keep herself steady. He walked her to the counter, where her back pressed against the granite, as she continued to try and speak. "This is just – It's a surprise. And – and I'm not sure how to feel right now."

"When I'm finished with you, Hermione, you'll have no doubt as to how to feel," he assured her, and finally, _finally_ slammed his lips against her soft, supple ones.

Lucius could admit that he was slightly shocked by how quickly she responded, and the level of intensity with which she did. He felt his head spinning as it had never done before, but he refused to allow himself to stray too far. He would enjoy every last minute of this sexual intimacy, and he would control every second of it.

His hands slithered down her stomach and around to her hips, latching on to them and lifting her until her bum rested against on top of the counter. She moaned in response, and Lucius grunted, as he now had a more level view of her breasts.

He tore his mouth apart from hers and his lips drifted down to her neck, where he nipped with some force, ensuring that she would be marked as his, at least long enough for others to take notice. Her head fell back and his name tumbled off her lips in a whisper, followed by unintelligible words.

Need and inexplicable urgency coursed through him as her previously limp hands found motion and tangled in his long, blonde hair. He growled mercilessly and bit at her collar bone with a new vengeance. She cried out with a new, inextinguishable craving for him.

"Lucius," she murmured. "Lucius!"

His hands found the tie on her robe and easily unknotted it. The green material parted down the center, leaving a thin, visible strip of skin from her neck to the center of nerves between her legs.

Eager to touch, and lick, and kiss, Lucius groaned and pushed the rest of the robe away, fully exposing her. Lucius' mouth took flight down her chest. He kissed the area just above her heart, and followed the tender motion by enveloping her left breast in his mouth. Her right breast was unattended, as Lucius' hands were currently exploring the bits of newly revealed skin.

She was as irresistible as he'd known she would be. He couldn't keep his hands from touching her.

Desire rushed into his system as her hands worked quickly and diligently at the clasps of his cloak. She took some sort of initiative, which confirmed his wishes that she was not only going along with his attentions, but she wanted him as well.

He allowed her that slight bit of control, because it pleased him greatly, and shrugged his cloak off when she had completed her task.

His mouth met hers again, simply because she had tilted it downward to see what she was doing with his cloak. He could taste her sweetness on the tip of his tongue, and while some part of him still felt the need to protect her, and be careful with her, the need to ravish her, and taste her, and do unspeakable things to her was stronger.

He tugged at her lip without mercy, and shuddered in small excitement when her lip bled just a touch. She let loose a cry of bliss as his hand touched against her thigh and roamed further up, his long fingers finding her entrance and pressing inside.

Her hips pressed against his hand, but he firmly remained still and continued to kiss her. He waited until she whimpered a soft plea against his mouth. "Move," she begged.

Unable to deny her at that point, he obeyed and pulled his lips away from hers so that he could watch with open eyes as her face twisted in pleasure at his ministrations. He pulled his hand away before she could find her release and she gasped at the loss of contact, staring at him with confusion.

He said nothing and simply began to unbutton his crisp white shirt. Unable to resist, Hermione's hands roamed over his muscled abs, over his ribcage past his chest and spread out over his shoulders. The muscles on his arms clenched as her hands explored them and she had the joy of seeing him shudder with the new contact. She reached down, without breaking eye contact, and unbuttoned his black dress pants. She slid his boxers down with his pants, and when they reached his ankles he stepped out of them and kicked them away.

Her hands fell down to his length and she stroked him several times, much to his excitement and never ending satisfaction, until he pushed her hands away.

He positioned himself slowly, giving her ample time to see and expect what was about to happen, and he plunged himself into her.

Pure fulfillment coursed through him as he hit the front of her wall and he surged forward once she had nodded in approval. She cried out, first in pain, but Lucius kept moving and heard her moans of approval several minutes later.

He grabbed her breasts with his hands as he thrust inside of her. He grunted and kissed her mouth with force, happy when she kissed him back and muffled her moans against his lips.

Lucius quickened his pace and was thrilled when her eyes, lustful and needy, locked into his and she screamed with ecstasy as she reached the ledge for the very first time.

A primitive sense of masculinity crashed into him as he acknowledged that he was the very first to touch her this way, and the thought of it pushed him over the edge and into the most pleasurable orgasm he'd ever experienced.

Breathing heavily and feeling content, he lifted her up and carried both of them to her bedroom, carefully laying her against the king-sized bed and tugging her into his arms once he had pulled the duvet over them both.

"That was – "

"Yes," he smirked in agreement. "It certainly was _something_."

"Promise we'll do that again," Hermione turned to him, a playful glint in her eyes. "Soon."

He barked in laughter. "I would never forgive myself if we did not, my love."

She hummed in agreement and kissed his chest lightly. "I still need to think about this, you know."

"You may think about it as long as you wish," Lucius informed her. "But only positive thoughts."

She giggled – an unusual thing for her, and a trait that Lucius tended to shy away from that he found oddly and intensely arousing when heard from Hermione Granger's lips. "I could hardly think anything negative about what we just did, Lucius."

Lucius felt a flutter of happiness and contentment which he had never felt before, and simply kissed her forehead as she drifted off to sleep.


End file.
